


Friday Night: Chris

by cycnus39



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: 2K Round-up Challenge, AU: Brothel In The Hills, Alternate Universe - Canon, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Old West
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 10:51:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cycnus39/pseuds/cycnus39
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Chris night at Judge Travis’ brothel in the hills!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friday Night: Chris

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in an old west alternate universe where Judge Travis hired the boys as both lawmen to protect the town and prostitutes to serve the clients at his brothel in the hills!

Chris was drinking down his third whisky when Vin leaned in beside him on the saloon bar. 

“Ain’t it time you were gone, Larabee?”

“I’m going.” Chris abandoned his empty glass on the bar then strode out the saloon, was just stepping out between the batwing doors when JD rode up to the hitching post. 

“There you are!” JD greeted Chris before dismounting and wrapping his reins around the rail. “Mrs Travis has a whole roomful of clients waiting for you. She told me to tell you to hurry.”

Ignoring JD, Chris mounted his horse and took his time riding out of town.

Judge Travis’ two-storey, colonial style house sat in the hills a half hour’s ride from town. Chris took an hour to get there.

“You’re late again!” Mary Travis growled at him from the porch as he tied his horse’s reins to the hitching rail. “There are twelve men waiting in there. I had to tell two to come back next week after already turning six away!”

Paying her no heed, he climbed up the steps, walked through the open door into the parlour, where twelve men sat around on the sumptuous furniture nervously drinking tea.

“You two weasels,” Chris snapped, pointing at the two men by the bay window who looked about ready to wet themselves, “out!”

Freezing, the men looked at Mary before looking back at Chris. 

“I said out!” Chris snarled, and the men ran past him out the door.

Ignoring Mary berating him about throwing out paying customers again, Chris pointed at the banker who had come in on the stage that morning. “You, follow me.”

“Yes, sir!” the banker couldn’t put down his cup and follow Chris up the stairs fast enough.

At the top of the stairs, Chris led the banker down the corridor to the room he used, opened the door and took off his hat, shrugged out of his coat, hung them up by the door.

“All right,” he then said, stepping over to the bed and turning to face the banker with his hands on his hips, “what do you want?”

“Could you take your clothes off and let me kiss you?” the banker answered quietly. 

Gaze narrowing, Chris asked, “Kiss me where?”

“Everywhere?” the banker replied. “Please?”

Sighing, Chris unbuckled his gun belt and put it on the dresser before unbuttoning his vest and shirt and putting them on the chair at the side of the dresser. He was sitting down on the bed to kick off his boots, when the banker made an odd little gasping noise.

“You all right?” Chris scowled over at the hyperventilating man.

“Yes, yes, thank you,” the banker returned. “Thank you.”

Kicking off his boots, Chris tucked them under the chair, then wriggled out of his pants, threw them on the chair, then stood in front of the banker naked.

“Put the money on the dresser.”

“Oh! Of course, of course!” The banker hurried to dig the ten silver dollars out of his coat pocket and put them on the dresser. “And a tip,” the banker went on, putting two more dollars on top. 

“All right.” Chris nodded. “You want me here or on the bed?”

“Uh, uh.” The banker pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his face, looked like he was going to faint. “I don’t-- Jesus!” the banker yelped and ran out the room.

Chris blinked then strode out into the corridor and yelled after him, “No refunds!” 

Shaking his head, Chris then went back inside and sat on the bed, waited to see if the banker would come back or if Mary would send up another client.

He wasn’t surprised when, a minute or so later, a shifty-eyed blond in a grey suit sidled into the room.

“Mrs Travis said it was my turn.”

“So what do you want?” Chris asked, standing as the blond put the money on the dresser. 

“I want your cock in my mouth and your gun at the side of my head,” the blond returned, immediately dropping to his knees.

That again.

Rolling his eyes, Chris walked over to the dresser and pulled his gun from its holster before turning and putting his cock in the blond’s open mouth, pressing his gun’s muzzle hard into the blond’s left temple and growling, “Suck it.”

As the blond began to enthusiastically do as he was told, Chris calculated how many shingles he would need to finish the barn roof.

 

 

End


End file.
